Memoirs of a Deatheater
by DerbyHobbs
Summary: Natalya was finally back from exile, but what she faced wasn't a welcome home party; but a nosey reporter begging to write her story. Will Natalya be able to face the past or will she make her past her future?
1. Chapter 1

_**"It's been while"**_

_**The voice was low, warm, and…seductive. He wouldn't expect anything less from her. She was his Femme Fatale; his downward spiral and his complete and thorough undoing of his very well kept pristine mask of steel. She was his Bonnie to his Clyde and she would awaken something in him he had kept locked away since he left Hogwarts.**_

* * *

It was cold and wet. One of the many reasons she despised Russia and why she was looking forward to stepping into the Floo powder to visit some old friends. She had been sent to Russia by the deatheaters for meddling in their plans to take over Hogwarts. She was a cold hearted woman as much as any Bellatrix Lestrange, but she loved her school over the dark lord and was eventually found out.

She stepped into the Floo Powder and imagined the cold marble floors of the Malfoy Manor. She felt the powder rise her up and popped her into their enormous white fire place. She knew Draco was now married to Astoria and they shared a son, just as handsome as Draco himself.

She heard the music coming from the all too familiar ballroom. Thankfully she dressed for an event. Her long gold mermaid style gown wasn't at all too formal for her taste. Her heels clicked on the white marble to the double doors leading to the ballroom.

The gatekeeper stared at her with disbelief.

"N-N-N-Name?"

She raised a brow, "really? You don't already know it?"

"Miss Romanoff, I-I-I regret to s-s-say that you are n-n-not on the list"

He cringed, and looked down, expecting a sort of punishment.

She lifted his chin and smirked, "Let me in."

He bowed and opened the double doors. She sighed, the green and silver shimmered on the drapes, and the night sky was twinkling on the ceiling. She scanned the room. All the right couples were present; the Zabini's, the Greengrass's, and the Malfoy's. She shook her head, not one Romanoff…how tragic.

She smirked once she saw that Draco saw her, he reacted as she expected; confused, then hurt, then angry.

She made her way through the crowds.

"Natalya? Is that you? When did you get back?"

She turned and smiled "Blaise! Today actually, I'm officially out of the barren which is known as Russia. I don't suggest you visit there."

He chuckled "one doesn't just go to Russia, unless exiled there."

She smirked "my exile is done. I think we both know that. The Dark Lord is done, I have nothing to fear."

He put his arm around her waist and led her to the patio surrounding the Malfoy Manor. She looked at Blaise confused.

"Nat, he's married; with a child, please don't tell me that you are back for him." He looked at her concerned.

She sighed "no, I'm not here for him. I'm here to regain my life back Blaise. I lost everything in Russia, my family is extinguished. My name once feared is nothing to society anymore. Thank God my parents died wealthy people, because otherwise I would be some bum under a bridge. I might as well be hanging out with the Weasley gang, seeing as to what I've been reduced to."

Her eyes watered as Blaise wrapped his arms around her. This was a rare moment when Natalya actually proved she was human with feelings.

He led her back into the ballroom. She shook her head and pulled out a mirror.

She huffed with impatience as to her make-up. Pulling out her wand she fixed the problem and smiled one of her fatal smiles. She wasn't going to mark this event a complete wash.

She looked up from under her lashes "Blaise, would you like to dance?"

He grinned and led her to the floor.

* * *

Her work was her life. She loved the mystery of it all, the mystery of interviewing people who were not approached by anyone else.

She took the risk. And she loved it.

It's an adrenaline rush, interviewing the damned and forsaken.

And her next subject was going to be her bread and butter.

Natalya Romanoff was rumored to be back in town. It was also rumored she crashed the Malfoy gala.

_Sounds like my kind of woman._

She avidly typed on her typewriter, a trait she was made fun of daily. She enjoyed the constant clicking sound of it; it was soothing.

"Chambers"

She looked up and grinned "Granger"

She smirked "What's the story this week?"

"The last deatheater, isn't it brilliant? This is what's going to land me the front page!"

Hermione raised a brow, "Yeah, on the Quibbler! Marie, you know you could have gone to Malfoy's gala and picked a handful of them. I don't understand why this is so brilliant?"

She grinned and pointed to a picture of a intimidating witch, "Yes, but not all of them are Natalya Romanoff. She is the LAST deatheater and she is back in town. No one is brave enough to interview her. She's apparently pretty ruthless."

Hermione shuttered, she remembered that face. Flawless in all its beauty, but just at cold-hearted. She still had no clue how she came out of the war unscathed.

"What makes you think you can just walk in and interview this woman? She'll kill you where you stand; she still doesn't seem to have a problem doing that to people."

Marie stared at her typewriter "I don't, that's the beauty of it."

* * *

The flat looked as if it had never been left. She opened the door to polished wood floors and a string of house elves.

"Missus we kept it clean in case one came back."

She narrowed her eyes, _only one will ever come back now._

She walked over to the fireplace. Pictures of her family lined the mantle, all very proper and cold. She picked up one from when she was a little girl of eleven. She had just been accepted into Hogwarts, the little girl in the picture stood straight with her letter in her hand. Who knew this little girl would be given a task that would change history.

She set it down and sighed; it was a lot more painful than she thought.

She walked into the master room where her mother and father once slept. It was exactly the same. Her mother's silver brush and mirror on the dresser. Some of her deep red hair remained. She straightened it.

Her father stood proud in one of the pictures on her mother's dresser. They were so in love with the idea of both of them together.

She always thought she had been given a lovely mix of her mother and father; her mother's looks and her father's ruthlessness.

She put her father's picture down.

"JIGNA!"

A small house elf ran into the room.

"Yes madam?"

"I will be sleeping in my old room. Please, move my things in there and size it accordingly."

"Yes madam"

It was going to be a long night…_alone._

* * *

Sighing; Marie packed her cubicle for the night. She knew what tomorrow held, she would approach a woman once compared to Bellatrix Lestrange.

She laughed a little; this is nuts, but right up her alley. She had interviewed the likes of the Malfoy's, the Zabini's, and Crabbe's and Goyles. But, this, this was going to be a little more tricky, the Romanoffs made the Malfoy's look like a cupcake covered in sprinkles.

She smirked and grabbed her wand. She never went to Hogwarts; her parents never allowed it. Hogwarts was rumored in France to be too dangerous, so her parents settled for Beauxbaton.

Maybe, that's why she craved the dangerous, because she was never introduced to it.

She turned off the lights as she left and started the journey to her flat. She lived about five minutes from the phone booth to get back to her work.

She turned the corner to the large multi-story building of her flat. She nodded and smiled at the doorman and continued to the elevator. She lived with muggles and she preferred it. They're quiet for the most part.

She got to the eleventh floor and opened the door to her flat. She hung her coat and set down her briefcase.

Starving, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Sighing she pulled out a frozen dinner and threw it into the microwave.

Staring over to the window that faced all of London a feeling of depression came over her. People at work whispered about how she was only friends with her outdated typewriter.

Maybe they were right; she was in the end alone right now. No love to cling onto, except her parchment.


	2. Chapter 2

It was harder to face the next morning.

_He's married; with a child. _

_Did he forget me that quick? _

It was a knife that was the explanation of the painful feeling in her heart. She took in a deep breath and got out of bed. It was time to move on.

_How do you move on when his face is stuck in your mind; his quick smirk of amusement, those clear grey eyes that she could get lost in forever? She used to love to run her fingers through that hair, it almost looked like silver. She could never believe he was a real person._

Her feet were cold on the bare wood floors. She looked around the room. It was much too old for a young girl; her family was constantly pushing her to grow up. She shook her head.

"Jigna?"

The house elf turned the corner and looked at her; waiting for the harsh order.

"It's too cold in here."

The house elf looked at the fireplace "would you like me to start a fire ma'am?"

"No, I want to change this room. Put carpet in, these wood floors are atrocious."

The house elf nodded and left the room.

It was time to clean. This entire flat reminded her too much of her family. Cold and demanding attention and respect; and she had changed.

She walked to the huge kitchen and waited for her eggs and toast. The house elf placed it in front of her. She took one look at it and pushed it away. She couldn't eat right now. It was too much and she HAD to do so changing.

The walls in the house were an unyielding white and red. It was her family's colors and what they were known to wear frequently.

She waved her wand and they changed to a light rose. She sighed, it was such a difference. Warm and inviting; lighting the fire made it so much cozier.

She smiled, it felt so good.

She curled on the couch and held her legs to her chest and silently started to weep.

_Alone, no matter what I do._

* * *

Today was the day. She was going to do it.

She walked up to the older wizard behind a huge desk.

He looked up "Yes Marie?"

"Permission to write a front page story sir"

He smiled softly "let me see it."

She put the proposal on his desk.

He scanned briefly over it "What makes you think she'll give the time of day?"

"I don't think she will, but it's worth a shot right? I don't know Fred, there is something good about her; and I want to capture it."

She ran her fingers through her hair "I think this is my big break, to start actually writing"

He smiled and handed her back the proposal. "Write it."

"Really?! Oh, thank you! You won't regret this"

She ran out of the room and went straight to her cubicle.

"Chambers? Are you alright?"

"I'm doing it! I'm going to write the piece, just got approval! "She stuffed her type writer into her bag.

"Wait, are you going now? I thought this was a joke. This really is dangerous Marie; you do know what you're getting yourself into?"

She nodded and smiled mischievously; "Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked past Hermione.

_Well, you've really confirmed the rumors that your nuts Marie. This is such a bad idea, but brilliant at the same time. _

Marie walked into the London streets; when she saw him.

Damien Dormer.

Her one and only unrequited love; he smiled that smile that always had her catching her breath.

"Hey Chambers."

"Dormer, how are you?" She looked down, afraid to give herself away.

"I'm great, business is going as usual; though the Malfoy's are killing me. Sucking me dry they are."

She smiled "well, you should get to work then. Don't want the whole place to shut down without you."

He laughed; he put his hand under her chin and lifted her head "Don't look down Marie, I like looking at your face."

She smirked and blushed. "Well, I have to go. I have a story to write and I can't be late."

He nodded and smiled "Don't be a stranger, Chambers."

She nodded and watched as he walked away.

_So stupid…geez Marie._

She walked the sidewalk and turned to an alley. She leaned on the wall and put her head in her hands and shook her head.

He was so utterly charming. They had a deep, beautiful relationship at one point. She then found out he was married. A shocking blow to the small idealistic world they had created. She was ashamed to still be so attracted to him. He was just so dynamic and irresistible.

She sighed and started to walk towards the street that Miss Romanoff lived.

* * *

She woke up on the couch to a knock at the door. Her heart fluttered; who would be visiting her?

_Draco?_

She shook her head and scolded herself for thinking of him first.

She walked to the door and opened it to see a petit brunette staring at her.

"Can I help you?" her eyes narrowed.

The girl stuck her hand out and cleared her throat "I'm Marie Chambers from the Daily Prophet."

She took her hand and didn't let go "I didn't have an appointment with the daily prophet Miss Chambers"

She felt the girl shutter and smirked "I'm sorry, but I was hoping to talk to you about possibly writing a story about you."

"Why?" she frowned.

"Because, you are the last deatheater Miss Romanoff; and everyone is especially curious of your background and story."

She let go of her hand. "I don't feel like talking right now."

She went to close door when Marie stopped her by pushing the door back open.

Natalya narrowed her eyes "Miss Chambers you are pushing your luck."

"I know, I'm known for it back at the office. Please, Miss Romanoff; I need your story. "

Natalya observed the woman in front of her. She wasn't much smaller than her, her brunette hung messily around her face and her eyes were a deep green. There wasn't anything special about her, but her behavior at one time would have cost her life. She sighed, what was a little press going to hurt.

"Come in."

She walked into a disaster zone. Boxes were everywhere and wood floors were in the process of being ripped up.

"Re-decorating?"

Natalya smirked "You could say that. Tea?"

"Oh yes please, but no cream or sugar."

Natalya laughed "I take mine the same way."

Marie smiled "I don't like sweet things."

She took the cup and saucer from the little house elf.

"So where are we going to start with this story?"

Marie set her cup down "From the beginning of course." She pulled her type writer from her bag and filled it with fresh parchment.

"When were you born Natalya?"

"I was born August 9th, 1980 in London, England."


End file.
